Making apple butter has become a fun Mother’s Day tradition for me, a yummy homemade gift to share not only with Mom, but also with several close friends who consistently bless me in my own beautiful, complicated parenting journey. This year I decided to spice things up a little bit by making a variation of one of my all-time favorite flavors, caramel apple.

The inspiration for this recipe came from one in Paul Virant’s fantastic cookbook, The Preservation Kitchen. His Caramel Apple Jam is a savory shredded apple preserve, flavored with thyme and black pepper, but it begins the same way: by making a deep amber, intensely apple caramel. There we parted ways, as I added chopped apples, cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg, then reduced and blended the mixture into tangy, sweet fruit butter.

Caramel Apple Butter contains the same amount of sugar and apple juice as traditional apple butter, but the caramelization process brings out the warmth of both. The results are thick and velvety, equally at home slathered on a ginger scone or a grilled turkey and cheese sandwich. I love apple butter on pancakes or cheddar biscuits, and it makes a beautiful sauce for roasted pork loin when added to the pan juices with a bit of grainy mustard.

A note: this cooking process is not one that lends itself to multi-tasking; although not complex, it requires some time and attention. Because making caramel involves hot sugar, this also isn’t a good time to invite little ones into the kitchen. Canning preserves is an ideal late Sunday afternoon activity, just right for when the house is quiet, everyone is absorbed in their own tasks, and the kitchen is otherwise empty. I love this hour of productive peace, with nothing more urgent to do than stir caramel and enjoy the fragrance of warm apples. Because I am a kitchen romantic, I also like to think that a little of my calm and focus seeps into what I am cooking, and what mom couldn’t use more of those?

Use a large, deep, wide-bottomed pan, preferably with rounded sides. Stir together sugar and water until sugar resembles wet sand, then cook over medium-high heat until sugar begins to melt, about 6-8 minutes. Do not stir or swirl pan during this stage, just watch. (Movement will cause the sugar to crystallize further and make big lumps. Trust me on this one: don’t leave the kitchen because it’s important you start stirring as soon as it begins to melt, but be your best, most patient self until then and don’t touch! :)

The sugar will turn crispy and crackly, then finally begin to ooze into a pale brown syrup at the edges. Once this happens, begin stirring with a wooden spoon, and continue to stir as the sugar melts completely. Once all the granules are dissolved, allow sugar to caramelize another 5-7 minutes, until it’s deep, dark amber in color and smells rich and nutty. Do not taste or touch it, as hot sugar burns are very painful.

Once the sugar is caramelized, remove it from the heat and stand back a bit as you pour in the apple juice. Once your caramel geyser quits bubbling and frothing enough to safely approach, return it to the heat and stir. The caramel will have crystallized into a solid lump in the bottom of the pan, but patient stirring will help it dissolve again. Continue stirring constantly as the apple juice caramel simmers and reduces by half, about fifteen minutes. Add the salt and ground spices and stir another minute or two to thoroughly combine.

Once the spiced apple caramel has thickened, it’s time to add the fruit. (Quick tip: For practicality’s sake, I often peel, core, and chop the apples the night before, toss them with the juice of a lemon, and then refrigerate until ready to use.) Stir in the apples and cover until it comes to a boil, then simmer uncovered for 30-40 minutes, until apples are very tender and liquid has further reduced.

While apples are cooking, use a water-bath canning pan to immerse eight half-pint jars in water and heat for ten minutes. (I use a 21 1/2-quart pan and rack, available for less than $20. I also use a set of silicone-lined jar tongs and a wide-mouth funnel, available individually or as part of a set.) This heats the jars enough that the hot apple butter won’t crack the glass.

When the apples are finished cooking/reducing, turn off the heat, and use an immersion blender on its highest setting to process the preserves until completely smooth. (As I explain in these recipe notes, I love my inexpensive immersion blender. If you don’t have one, you can process your apple butter in batches in a traditional blender.)

Once blended smooth, use a funnel to fill heated, dried jars, leaving 1/2″ of space at the top of each jar. Screw on the bands and lids, then process your jars by immersing in boiling water bath for ten minutes. Remove the sealed, processed jars to allow them to cool. When the lids make a popping sound, you know they’re sealed tight. Unopened jars of apple butter can be stored at room temperature for up to six months, but they should be refrigerated after opening. If a jar doesn’t seal after processing and cooling, the apple butter is fine, but it should only be kept in the refrigerator.

Thursday nights seem caught in perpetual dinnertime limbo. There are too many leftovers to make another elaborate meal, and the end of the work week is tantalizingly close. Thursdays require something simple and quick that makes use of the extras in the refrigerator, but still satisfying enough to fuel that last push toward the weekend. A little culinary immediate gratification is a welcome sight.

All of which makes Thursday nights the ideal time for a fritatta, a sort of hybrid omelette/crustless quiche. Golden, rich, and hearty, it is a dish that comes together quickly and allows for plenty of creative adaptation based on what’s available in the fridge and pantry. This one incorporates three of my seasonal favorites: the first fresh zucchini, bright green peas, and a few sprightly spring onions. Although I used parmesan, any cheese will do here, from mild, milky mozzarella to the nutty smokiness of Gruyere. I have to say, there is simple kitchen magic in topping a hot fritatta with a freshly grated flurry of parmesan snow, white and light, melting almost as soon as it touches the eggy surface.

This recipe is vegetarian, and for me, that healthy dose of nutritious green also feels like a good fit before the weekend begins. However, you could easily add a handful of cooked bacon or ham, if your carnivorous instincts demand satisfaction. The topping is a zingy, sweet-tart salad made of yellow heirloom tomatoes seasoned simply and generously with olive oil, vinegar, salt, pepper, and garlic. It brings a much-needed acid punch to the party, balancing out the richness of so much egg, cream, and cheese.

Feel free to substitute your own vegetable choices: mushrooms or potatoes in place of the zucchini; chard or spinach rather than green peas; diced red onion and bell pepper instead of scallions. You can also adjust the herbs; rosemary, tarragon, and dill all play beautifully with eggs and cheese. That is the beauty of a fritatta, so friendly and accommodating, spontaneous and undemanding: the perfect Thursday night dinner guest.

Oven 450F. In large, nonstick sauté pan with curved sides, heat olive oil over medium-high heat. Add zucchini, onion, garlic, 1/2 teaspoon of the salt, and 1/4 teaspoon of the pepper, and cook until zucchini is tender but still crunchy in the center, about 7 minutes. Remove from heat and drain off extra liquid released from zucchini. Stir in lemon juice, nutmeg, herbs, and cooked peas.

While veggies are cooking, beat together eggs, creme fraiche (or dairy product of your choice), remaining teaspoon of salt, and remaining 1/2 teaspoon pepper in large mixing bowl. Whisk until mixture is creamy yellow and evenly combined. Stir in cheese.

Return pan of cooked veggies to medium-high heat and pour over egg mixture. Stir briefly, just enough to distribute veggies evenly in egg. Allow to cook on stovetop until edges are just set, a quick minute or two, then immediately transfer to oven. (Quick tip: if your pan has plastic handles, wrap them with a double layer of aluminum foil before baking.) Cook for 20-25 minutes, until center is set but not firm, and top is golden brown. Remove from oven and grate on more cheese as desired. Allow to cool 2-3 minutes, then gently slide fritatta out on to serving platter. (You may have to loosen the edges slightly before removing from pan — just arm yourself with a spatula and proceed confidently.)

While fritatta is baking, mix all tomato salad ingredients in a medium mixing bowl and toss well. Cover and allow to sit at room temperature until fritatta is ready. (Never purchase chilled tomatoes or store them in the refrigerator; refrigeration causes an immediate, permanent breakdown of the chemicals that give tomatoes flavor.) Taste once more for seasoning before serving.

To plate, slice warm fritatta into eighths and top each wedge with a generous spoonful of tomato salad. Serve with a chunk of crusty bread, preferably warmed and buttered, and enter Friday with a happy, full belly. :)

I have seldom posted a recipe that wasn’t my own on this blog, but I am making an exception. I feel comfortable doing so because A) this recipe already appeared in print in the London Times in 2008; and B) I am posting it entirely to encourage you to buy the author’s cookbook, Plenty. Plenty is the culinary brainchild of London restaurant owner Yotam Ottolenghi, and the considerable press buzz surrounding it is absolutely merited.

Mr. Ottolenghi is Israeli, and his dishes are Med-Rim in flavor, drawing from the culinary heritage of northern Africa, the Mediterranean Middle East, and southern Europe. The recipes are vibrant and modern, sometimes complex but never fussy. Plenty happens to be a vegetarian cookbook, although its author and his eponymous restaurant are not. But this is not the meager, stretched-thin sort of food that outsiders often associate with their herbivorous brethren; instead it is filling, tasty, and somehow indulgent. The recipes can be a meal themselves or co-exist happily alongside meat; Monday night, we sampled Sweet Potato Wedges with Lemongrass Creme Fraiche, and they made a brilliant partner to smoked turkey breast and peppery greens.

I served Plenty‘s Green Pancakes with Lime Butter as part of the spread at our Super Bowl bash, and they were delicious. The original recipe calls only for spinach, but I substituted Organic Girl’s Super Greens, a mix of baby greens that includes red and green chard, spinach, arugula, and tat soi. I also chose to use one large, milder Anaheim pepper instead of two smaller green chiles to control the heat, since I knew some of our guests were not fans of spicy food. Other than that, I stuck stolidly to the recipe and was completely satisfied with the results. These are easily made ahead and warmed just before serving, and the lime butter is equally brilliant over other veggies and fish or chicken. Make this recipe, love it, and then buy the cookbook. :)

To make the lime butter, beat butter in small mixing bowl with wooden spoon until soft and creamy. Add rest of butter ingredients and mix well. Tip on to a sheet of plastic wrap or parchment and roll into a sausage shape, then chill until firm.

Wilt the spinach in a saute pan with a splash of water over medium heat. (If using mixed greens, wilting will take a couple minutes more.) Drain in a sieve, and when cool, squeeze hard with your hands to remove as much moisture as possible. Roughly chop and set aside.

Put the flour, baking powder, whole egg, melted butter, salt, cumin, and milk in a large mixing bowl and whisk until smooth. Add the green onions, green chiles, and chopped spinach, and mix well with a fork. Whisk the egg white in a small bowl until it holds stiff peaks, then gently fold into the pancake batter with a silicone spatula.

Heat about a tablespoon of oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. For each pancake, ladle in two tablespoons of batter and press down gently. Cook for about two minutes on each side, until golden brown and green. Transfer to paper towels, and continue cooking until all batter is used; you should have about twelve 3″-wide pancakes. To serve, pile up three warm pancakes for each guest and top with a slice of lime butter to melt over the top.

Recipe Notes + Tips:

If you don’t have self-rising flour on hand, mix one cup all-purpose flour, 1-1/4 tsp. baking powder, and a pinch of salt. I place my ingredients straight into a zip-close bag so they are easily mixed and stored. This recipe requires only 3/4 cup of self-rising flour, so you’ll have a little left over for your next recipe.

Procrastination and baking do not generally compliment each other, but with this recipe, forgetting your cookie dough for a few weeks before you get around to baking it actually improves the final product. The extra time in the freezer allows the lemon flavor to really infuse and develop, producing buttery, fragrant cookies. The crisp coating of lemon sugar on the outside adds just a hint of crunch, and lemony tart icing drizzled on top completes the citrus trifecta.

Of course, these are wonderful even if you only freeze the dough the minimum one hour. Though these resemble shortbread in appearance, the addition of egg yolk makes for a more tender, less crumbly cookie than traditional shortbread. The dough comes together in a matter of minutes, just the time it takes to zest and juice a few lemons and blitz the ingredients in the food processor. I often double the recipe and keep a log in the freezer, ready to cut and bake for guests.

Not in the mood for lemon? See the Recipe Notes for several more flavor variations, including Orange-Ginger and Mocha-Vanilla. All of them also freeze well after baking — just wait to glaze until right before serving. It’s not often that procrastination is so beautifully rewarded. :)

In food processor, pulse flour, powdered sugar, salt, and one tablespoon lemon zest until thoroughly combined. Add butter and pulse again until it forms sandy crumbs. Add egg yolks and lemon juice and process until mixture forms a ball of dough. Place dough on a sheet of parchment paper and shape into a log 1-1/2″ in diameter. (Don’t stress if it’s not perfectly round — you’re not looking for something that appears factory-produced, just a uniform shape that will cook evenly.) Fold over ends of parchment and freeze dough for one hour or up to one month. If freezing more than a few hours, place parchment-wrapped dough in a layer of plastic wrap or a zip-seal plastic bag to protect it against freezer burn.

When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350F. Blitz granulated sugar and remaining two teaspoons lemon zest in food processor until well-combined. Roll frozen dough log in lemon sugar, pressing to achieve a solid, sugary coat. Using a sharp, non-serrated knife, slice into eighteen 1/4″-thick rounds. Place 1″ apart on parchment-lined cookie sheet and bake for 15 minutes, until edges of cookies have just a hint of golden brown and centers are set. Be careful not to over-bake.

Allow to cool on sheet for a few minutes, then remove to rack to cool completely. While cookies cool, mix icing ingredients. Drizzle glaze from the back of a spoon on tops of cooled cookies and serve. Easy-peasy lemon squeezy! :)

Recipe Notes + Tips:
There are endless variations to this recipe using the same quick, basic dough. Try substituting fresh orange zest and juice for the lemon in the cookies and icing, plus add a 1/2 tsp. of ground ginger to the dough. Roll in finely chopped candied ginger before baking, and you have citrusy, spicy Orange-Ginger Icebox Cookies.

For a chocolate treat, trade out a tablespoon or two of the flour for the same amount of unsweetened cocoa and substitute a teaspoon of vanilla bean paste or real vanilla extract for the lemon juice in the cookie dough. Roll in chocolate jimmmies before baking and glaze with melted chocolate. For Mocha-Vanilla Icebox Cookies, follow the same directions for the chocolate cookies, but add a teaspoon of espresso powder to the dough and substitute brewed coffee for the lemon juice in the glaze.

The list of possible flavors is limited only by your imagination: Caribbean Coconut-Lime, toasty Butter Pecan, Mexican Hot Chocolate with a kick of cayenne and cinnamon…. There’s really no end to the combinations, just keep the proportions of dry and liquid ingredients the same as the original recipe. I’d love to hear what you come up with! :)

Days after this recipe is cooked and devoured, I can still detect the sweet, exotic scent of a Moroccan spice bazaar in my kitchen. Tagine refers to both the North African stew itself and the vessel in which it is traditionally cooked, a triangular-domed ceramic dish that allows steam to circulate and tenderize heavily spiced chunks of meat and vegetables. Fortunately, a modern metal Dutch oven or stock pot will serve just as well, and your stove-top will stand in nicely (if less romantically) for burying it in a heap of burning coals.

This recipe requires a bit of planning ahead since the meat marinates overnight before cooking. It is well worth the extra day. The spice rub recipe makes more than you’ll need for one tagine, and I like to keep some on hand in my spice cabinet. It is fragrant and flavorful in the extreme, and in addition to the traditional stew, I find it makes a beautiful roasting seasoning for chicken or lamb; it also plays well with almost any root vegetable, from potatoes to parsnips. I chose the ingredients based on multiple authentic Moroccan sources, but the ratios and recipe are my own, so feel free to adjust it to suit your own palate and desire for heat.

Moroccans speak both French and Arabic, so bon appetit and bil-hanā’ wa ash-shifā’. (translation: “May you have your meal with gladness and health.” :)

In large zip-sealed bag, place beef cubes, 1/4 c. tagine spice rub, and 3 Tbsp. olive oil. Seal and mix well, until beef is evenly coated with oil and spices. Refrigerate at least overnight, ideally a full 24 hours.

When ready to cook, heat 1 Tbsp. olive oil over medium-high heat in large Dutch oven or stock pot. Brown beef in three batches, about 5-6 minutes each, and remove to plate and set aside. If you try to brown it all at once, it will just steam instead of caramelizing. Also, you may need to add another glug of olive oil at the start of each batch if you bought very lean meat. If the bottom of the pan is brown at the end of this stage, no worries, that’s just flavor. If it’s perilously black, that’s burned spices, and you need to give it a rinse before moving on to the next step. (This is one of the drawbacks of using a modern pot instead of a ceramic tagine.)

Once beef is finished and removed to rest, add onions and chard stems to oil already in pot and cook two minutes, then stir in ginger and garlic. Add sweet potatoes and stir, then add tomato paste, lemon juice, stock/broth, honey, extra 1 Tbsp. spice rub, and salt. Add back in browned beef, stir well, and bring to simmer. Then reduce heat to low and cook, covered, for one hour, stirring occasionally. Add chard leaves and cook 20-30 minutes more.

Like most soups and stews, the final cooking time will change depending on the water and fat content of your ingredients. It may be done now, or it may need a few more minutes. It is finished when the beef is meltingly tender, sweet potatoes have almost completely disappeared, and gravy is thick and flavorful. Taste for seasoning and adjust as needed, then serve.

I serve my tagine over couscous, topped with plain Greek yogurt and chopped cilantro, with ginger-peach chutney and naan on the side. This is even better the next day, though it seldom lasts that long around here. Recipe is easily doubled or even tripled, just brown meat in more batches and extend cooking time extra half hour (or more as needed) before adding chard. This is a crowd-pleaser, even when the crowd consists of children and folks who usually like milder flavors.

Recipe Notes + Tips:
Saffron definitely comes under the heading of, “Who would think of eating that!?” but I am awfully glad someone was more imaginative than I. Saffron is the dried stamen of a crocus flower native to Southwest Asia and is also grown in a few regions around the Mediterranean Sea. It lends food a delicious nutty flavor I love, plus a brilliant, bursting yellow that appeals to my artist’s eye.

Saffron is cultivated and harvested entirely by hand, in a carefully timed, delicate process. It is quite expensive as a result, but a tiny pinch is enough to season several pounds of meat, vegetables, or grains. I buy coupe-grade Spanish saffron on-line from The Spice House, as I do everything else in my spice cabinet; I find their quality and value unmatched. Saffron is definitely a splurge, but it is a beautiful addition to any pantry. (If you don’t have/want any on hand, you can substitute 2 tsp. ground turmeric for the saffron in the tagine spice rub recipe. It will mimic the color and provide a little extra flavor boost.)

I am not even using the word “squash” in the title of this recipe because it’s not fair. People see that word, and they think baby food: stringy, overcooked, bland… they think “I hate squash.” My 14-year-old son has certainly uttered those words before, and he came back for seconds of this pasta.

Instead of squash, think about the word “butternut.” Now that’s more like it. This pasta is creamy, buttery, smooth, and nutty. A little kick from smoky cayenne amps up both color and taste, and the natural sweetness of butternut (squash) is the perfect foil to the savory garlic and fennel of Italian sausage.

This pasta is also a great way to start the new year, especially after weeks of holiday over-indulgence. This isn’t the kind of food that wreaks of diets and deprivation, but rather the sort we should really be eating every day: balanced, tasty, and nourishing. It is a warming, hearty helping of fiber, vitamins A and C, potassium, and heart-healthy omega fatty acids. You can also opt for turkey Italian sausage and skim ricotta to keep it lower in fat, or add even more fiber and vitamins with whole wheat pasta. I eat it because it tastes good, but I enjoy it more because I know it’s good for me.

While squash is roasting, boil pasta in salted water in a large stockpot. (Quick tip: heavily salted water is key to avoiding bland pasta. I use about a tablespoon of coarse salt for every pound of pasta; the finished noodles taste more flavorful, not salty.) Cook for a minute or two less than pasta package directions indicate, as you’ll be cooking it further in the sauce later. I used pipe rigate from World Market, but any large pasta will do. Tube and shell shapes are ideal because in stirring, they stuff themselves with the thick, chunky sauce.

Multi-tasking alert: while the squash is roasting and the pasta is boiling, crumble the Italian sausage in a large skillet and cook on medium-high heat. As sausage begins to brown, add thyme, basil, and garlic and cook two minutes more. Total cooking time will vary depending on water/fat content of your sausage; mine takes about ten minutes. Drain sausage well on paper towels. Finish by feeling generally efficient and handy in the kitchen for doing three things at once. ;)

Reserve a few ladles full of pasta water, then drain pasta and return to pot. (Pasta water already contains starch and salt, which make it the perfect liquid to add to pasta sauce.) Add cooked sausage and roasted squash, including the scented, brilliant orange oil from the bottom of the roasting pan. Stir in Parmesan and whatever you chose as your creamy element (creme fraiche, cream, or ricotta) and warm through over medium heat. Add pasta water as needed to make a rich, creamy sauce; you’ll need more if you opted for ricotta. Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper as desired. I serve mine with a sprinkling of extra cheese, a mixed green side salad, and a chunk of whole wheat bread.

Recipe Notes + Tips:
Have I mentioned lately how much I love roasted walnut oil? It is all the best of walnuts — complex, nutty flavor and a heart-healthy punch of omega fatty acids — without the bitter aftertaste. It goes beautifully with leafy greens, root vegetables, and squash, as well as pork and chicken. You won’t find a better partner for strongly flavored cheeses ranging from Parmesan to Stilton. It is perfection with roasted beets and feta, or added to honey mustard vinaigrette, but its uses are hardly limited to the savory. I love the subtle nuttiness it brings to chocolate cake and banana bread; the scent of a few drops warmed in the pan transforms pancakes and french toast. Roasted walnut oil also compliments fruit, especially citrus.

I use La Tourangelle Roasted Walnut Oil, and it can be purchased at some grocery stores, T.J. Maxx (if you get lucky), the La Tourangelle web site, or in 3-packs on Amazon. Regardless of the brand, I have learned from experience that it is vital that the bottle say “toasted” or “roasted” walnut oil; walnut oil pressed from unroasted nuts has none of the scent, warmth, or flavor.

Roasted walnut oil is one of those pantry-building ingredients that will amaze you with its versatility. It responds well to higher heat, and it can be substituted in equal measure in recipes calling for canola or olive oil. Obviously it should not be eaten by those with nut allergies, and I never make gifts with it unless I have already asked the recipient about food sensitivities/allergies. Assuming that doesn’t apply to you, try it and let me know what you think. :)

It stands to reason that I would love Thanksgiving: I love to cook, I love to have family and friends over, and I have an awful lot to be thankful for. Right now my kitchen smells like Thanksgiving heaven, redolent with smoky turkey, onion and celery, sage and thyme, orange and allspice. My children firmly believe we would make millions if we could just figure out how to capture the smell of turkey stock in candle form.

If you’ve never made homemade stock before, now is the time to try it. You are virtually guaranteed to have access to a turkey in the days ahead, and even if you didn’t cook it yourself, most hosts are happy (if slightly amused) to send their guests home with a carcass care package. Cooking stock is surprisingly simple and makes sense both ethically and economically because you’re getting the most you can out of the animal. I also find it’s a great way to use fruit and veggies that are a bit past their prime; our stock this year includes a few old apples and a rutabaga that were rolling around unwanted in the produce drawer.

The recipe below makes several scented, savory quarts, perfect for soup, stew, and pot pie. It will keep for a week or two in the refrigerator or a few months in the freezer. Feel free to change the seasonings or vegetables to suit your palate and pantry.

Put all the ingredients in your largest stockpot (must hold at least 8 quarts) and cover with water. Simmer uncovered over medium heat for several hours. When liquid reduces by half, fill with water again and simmer for one hour more.

Strain hot stock into large bowl or second pot. To store in refrigerator for use in next two weeks, fill sterilized quart-size mason jars with hot stock, leaving 3/4″ space at top of jar. Put on fresh lids and allow to sit out on counter until you hear the pop of each lid sealing, then refrigerate. (Steam will seal jars well enough to buy you extra time in the fridge.) If you prefer to freeze your stock, allow it to cool completely, then place in quart-size Ziploc freezer bags labeled with date; freeze up to three months.